Love, Letters, and Firelight
by Puppets Blizzt
Summary: This, boys and girls, is the story of true love. A beautiful girl from one county, a handsome boy from another. They meet and they fall in love. Separated by distance and by parents who did not approve of the union... Lorelai/Luke. Pre-GG; 1984.
1. A Lucky Happenstance

Yeah. I started another project.

But I _had _to...

I'm sorry this chapter is short. They'll get longer. c:

Does the summary sound familiar? It should.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

* * *

><p>Lorelai Gilmore fumed, her arms folded tightly across her chest and her eyes narrowed in the form if deepest disgust.<p>

"What do you think, Lorelai?" her mother asked, turning towards her with the utmost importance. A dress was held firm in her grasp. Lorelai studied it for a fraction of a second before she responded.

"I think I'd like to go home now," she responded tersely.

"Lorelai, please," her mother sighed in exasperation.

"It looks fine," she muttered, "I guess."

Her mother's eyes narrowed into beads of frustration. "Lorelai Gilmore, why do you insist on _always_ making things more difficult than they should be?"

Lorelai groaned, walking towards her mother as if it were the most painful task in all of creation.

"If I cooperate, can we do something _I_ want to do?"

Her mother hesitated, her mouth thin. She knew this game; Lorelai played it well. She knew how to get things to work in her favorite. Manipulative. Cunning.

Seconds passed between them before Emily issued her decision. "Fine."

Lorelai grabbed the dress from her mother's hands. "I'll be right back!" she said cheerfully. She rushed into the dressing room and pulled the curtain across the rod, nearly ripping it off its hinges in the process.

"Don't take too long," Emily responded sarcastically, a slight hint of annoyance lingering in her tone. With all the grace of Queen Elizabeth, Emily seated herself in one of the chairs.

_Trust me, I won't_. She planned to spend as few minutes as possible in this insipid store. She had already wasted a good two hours of her life trying on dresses and amusing her mother—and that was only today—and she simply refused to make it last any longer.

Her mother's DAR events, plus celebrations held by her father's insurance company, led to many visits to dress stores throughout Harford. Because, really, _she simply couldn't wear the same dresses to the parties_; it would be a fashion fiasco.

That was the world in which Lorelai Victoria Gilmore lived, and she resented it with every fiber of her being. She hated being told what to do and when to do it; what to wear and when to wear it. Her stubborn independence was something that couldn't be contained easily, and it thus made her a handful for her two prim-and-proper parents, Richard and Emily Gilmore.

Rebellion was synonymous with her name since before she could crawl. She cried when she was forced to wear ridiculous baby gowns and ignored her mother's pleas to amuse their guests. Anything she was asked of, she did the complete opposite.

It was a nightmare for the Gilmores when she reached her teenage years. Stubbornness had arisen by the age of eight, and it reared its head whenever given the chance. Added to her surplus of teenage hormones, conflict became common in the Gilmore mansion.

She wanted to please her parents, but they could only be pleased if she entered the realm of high society, and she wanted nothing to do with their world. DAR functions became a nightmare; the Gilmore house became her hell.

Sighing, Lorelai stepped out of the dressing room, her hands on her hips. "Happy?"

"Very much," Emily replied. "Do you like it?"

"Sure," Lorelai agreed, "it'll do."

Emily stood up and inspected it more closely. After it passed inspection, she let Lorelai change out of the dress and the two left the store with a new addition to Lorelai's closet of one-time-only clothes.

Mother and daughter sat in the car in silence.

"Where do you want to go?" Emily asked finally, instantly regretting the agreement before Lorelai had even answered.

"Animal shelter!" she answered promptly.

"We are not getting a dog."

"I never said anything about getting a dog," Lorelai replied, "I just want to see them. Please?"

Emily sighed and put the key in the ignition. Lorelai smiled.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Luke!" the young girl whined.<p>

"Five more minutes," he bargained.

"But I want to go _now_."

"Be patient."

"No."

"Dad needs these things, Lizzie. Just wait."

The girl muttered something he couldn't quite catch, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to know. He rolled his eyes, but he ignored her as his eyes quickly searched the rack. He saw everything except what he was actually searching for, and this put him in a foul mood. His sister's constant badgering didn't help.

"It's been five minutes, Luke."

"Five more. This is important," he responded absently as he turned down another aisle. He repeated the process of eye scanning and item searching. So far, his mission had been fruitless. "If you helped, we'd be done a lot faster."

"What are we looking for?" she asked in resignation.

"A pair of pipe cutters."

"What are they?"

"They cut pipe."

"Oh, really? I never would have guessed." He glared at her. "What do they _look like_?"

"Well, uh…" Luke stammered, unsure of how to describe them. His eyes widened as he snatched an item from the shelf. "They look like this."

"Great!" Liz smiled broadly. "Let's go!"

Luke tossed the pipe cutters into the bed of the truck and the two siblings climbed in.

"What's next?" Liz asked.

"I thought I'd take you to the animal shelter because you've been so cooperative," Luke answered.

"Really?" Liz's eyes shone.

"Sure."

"You're the best big brother," Liz hugged him.

Luke forced a smile, as uncomfortable as it made him feel. His sister was the affectionate one, something she had inherited from her mother. Luke was the frigid one, something he had inherited from his grandfather. It wasn't that he didn't love his sister-or his family-because he did. He loved them dearly, and they were the most important people in his life.

He didn't, however, possess the finesse for expressing those affections. His sister was far more skilled in the area.

"I love you, Lukey," his sister smiled as she withdrew, laughing.

He grimaced, knowing he was only adding fuel to the fire; she loved to mock him and take joy from the uncomfortable manner in which he often conducted himself during these moments.

"Love you too, Lizzie," he sighed.

* * *

><p>"Look at the puppy!"<p>

"Lorelai, for Heaven's sake," Emily chastised.

"But look!" she pointed at the dog with affection. "He's so _sad_ and _lonely_. You're lonely, aren't you, boy?"

The dog stared at her through the bars of his cage.

"Feels a lot like a prison, doesn't it?" she nodded, "I feel your pain."

"Lorelai!" Emily exclaimed.

"It's called sympathy, Mom. It's what humans do. Maybe you would to better waiting in the car."

Not needing any further hints, Emily turned on her heel and walked away, making a beeline for the door. Lorelai smiled slightly and turned her attention back to the dog. She crouched, putting her fingers through the cage.

"Look at you," she sighed, "you probably want to get outta there, don'cha?"

The dog licked her fingers affectionately, rubbing against the bars of the cage and barking madly.

A little girl ran up to the cage eagerly, pressing her fingers through the cage and knocking Lorelai off her feet.

"Big brother! Look at this one!"

"Liz, careful!" the girl's 'big brother' yelled as she careened into the young woman already crouched there, unintentionally pushing her over. "Geez."

Luke walked over to the girl and extended his hand to her. "Need help?"

Lorelai looked up in surprise, but she took the hand gratefully and the boy pulled her to her feet.

"Hey, thanks," she smiled.

"I'm sorry. She's sort of… energetic," Luke apologized for his sister, who was busy cooing to the puppy.

"It's fine, really," Lorelai shrugged.

Luke stared at her, mesmerized by the brightness of her eyes. They were blue, a light blue that shined like stars. He was momentarily star struck—pun intended.

"Luke," he said.

"Lorelai," she echoed.

"Liz!" Luke's sister inserted herself into their conversation, looking up with inquisitive eyes. "You're pretty."

"Uh, thank you," Lorelai said with a nervous smile. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It was then that she realized her hand was still firmly in Luke's, and she withdrew it with even more nervousness. "So, uh, where do you two live? I haven't seen you around here before."

Lorelai usually made it a point to go to the shelter whenever she got the chance whether her parents were aware of it or not.

"Stars Hollow," Luke answered.

"Never heard of it."

"About thirty minutes south."

"Oh."

"So you come here often, then?"

"Whenever I can," she nodded.

Liz took her hand and dragged Lorelai to one of the other dogs, pointing. "What can you tell me about this dog?"

Lorelai cast an amused glance towards Luke. He blinked apologetically. She shrugged it off and turned back to Liz.

"That's Oliver," she began, "he's about two years old and he's super energetic. He likes to play fetch and he loves squeaky toys. He also likes long walks on the beach, and…"

This earned a chuckle from Luke.

Liz seemed oblivious, staring at Lorelai with awe. "Wow. You know everything."

"Not everything," Lorelai corrected.

After a few minutes of mindless chatter, an employee asked them if they wanted to walk one of the dogs. The trio agreed, and the woman led them to a track behind the shelter. A German Shepherd puppy danced around their feet, tail waving a thousand miles a minute. While Liz held the leash and was dragged down the pavement, Luke and Lorelai lingered behind them.

"Where do you go to school?"

"Stars Hollow High. It's prison. You?"

"Cedarhurst."

"Wow," he praised, "that's…"

"More akin to prison than a public school, I assure you that," she finished his sentence for him, grimacing. "In fact, it's worse than prison."

He chuckled. She grinned.

Minutes passed, and minutes turned to an hour. After dog—and the trio—got his exercise, they led him back to the shelter and thanked the woman.

Emily Gilmore was waiting impatiently inside.

"Lorelai," she marched over to her daughter, anger clearly written on her face. "It's been an hour. What have you been doing in here?"

"We took the puppy for a walk," Lorelai answered brightly.

"'We?'" Emily echoed.

"This is Luke," Lorelai turned to him, then motioned to his younger sister. "And this is Liz."

"Hello," Luke greeted awkwardly.

Emily's smile was thin as she returned the greeting. Her eyes focused back on her daughter. "It's time to go."

"Oh. Well—" she started to say 'bye' to the siblings, but her mother's voice cut her off.

"_Now_, Lorelai," her mother's forceful tone made her scoff, and she trailed after her in reluctant obedience as Emily turned away.

She cast a glance over her shoulder and committed his face to memory. She memorized his stature, his short brown hair, his broad shoulders. She memorized his smile, his eyes, his hands.

Yes, this was better than a dog.

* * *

><p>Uh. So. I'm not sure how this is going to turn out, exactly...<p>

But you should review it anyway. ;D

- Puppet


	2. A Visit to Stars Hollow

Yay for Chapter Two!

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed thus far; your support is amazing and fantastic and wonderful and c:

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Gilmore Girls. I can, however, tell you anything you might (not) want to know about Lauren Graham. Like the fact that she once rolled across her gym floor in her dad's cable-knit sweater on Halloween because she was a coconut. And that she told a traffic police woman on set that she was Jennifer Aniston and they believed her.

* * *

><p>"Look again!" Emily's shrill voice rang throughout the store. Innocent customers froze in their tracks; some appeared confused and stared at the item in his or her hands, as if she had been talking to them. One woman hurried from the store without a second thought in the world, too terrified of the woman to stay in the store any longer. A mass of people scurried from a fixed point in the room, dispersing like a rays of sunlight. Their paths could be tracked back to a single, red-haired woman, drawn up with diplomacy and glaring at the stock boy. Though she was at least a head shorter than the man, her eyes were no less threatening—her thin frown no less terrifying—than if she were Bigfoot. The stock boy grimaced, biting a sharp retort before it could slip out. Emily took this time to launch her fifth wave of frustration. "Unlike you, I do not <em>have<em> all day."

"Sorry, ma'am," the boy muttered crossly, pasting a fake smile onto his rat-like features.

Emily extended the same courtesy, her smile almost a perfect imitation of his.

Several more minutes passed as Emily diligently followed the boy around the store. Her daughter and husband were in tow, their eyes downcast as they pretended they were not accompanying her in her relentless pursuit.

"We won't get another shipment in until late July," the boy finally declared, this time asserting it with more decisiveness than he had before. "But, if you need it, I can—I can direct you to a local place that may."

Richard started to speak. "Thank you, but that's—"

"Yes," Emily spoke at the same time, firmly and with a harsh glare at her husband.

The stock boy excused himself from the conversation and pulled out a local phone book, flipping through the pages with the store's phone in his other hand.

Richard's mouth was still open with unspoken words, but he transformed them to fit the situation. "Emily, is it really necessary to…"

"Of course it's necessary, Richard," Emily replied calmly, condescendingly. "July is five months away, and that project will not remain uncompleted for five months. I _will not _let it mock me, unfinished, for five months."

Lorelai suppressed a laugh.

The stock boy cut in, one hand covering the end of the phone. "There's a store half an hour south that has some in stock. I can ask them to hold some…"

"Yes," Emily agreed swiftly.

He spoke into the phone and hung up. A sigh of relief fled his body as the family left the store with directions. Peace. At least.

Outside, the Gilmores piled into the car. Lorelai settled herself into the backseat, unable to shake the feeling she got when the stock boy had tried to make a move on her. He didn't even know her and he was trying to get her home number. As tempting as it was to give it and earn a laugh from the annoyed temperament of her parents, she refused. Still, he followed her around the store. It wasn't until Richard told him to do his job that he stopped, and Lorelai thanked her father with a grateful nod.

There was something interesting about her relationship with her father; where her mother was cold, her father was reasonable. Where her mother refused, her father heard her out. She, of course, ultimately resented both of her parents, but her father was bearable at most times. She was grateful for this, for this tiny ray of hope.

The boy continuously tried to pry a name from her, but that, too, was a secret to him. Her fingers clenched around the cell phone in her pocket, a gift from her parents. The advent of such technology had only come out two months ago, and the Gilmores were one of the first families in Hartford to acquire the item. They were, after all, the rich, snooty family from Hartford. They had a reputation to uphold.

She wanted desperately to hit him over the head with her new phone. The pair of hedge cutters on the shelf was also tempting. Still, she restrained herself as he led them around the store, ignoring his glances and staring straight at the small in her father's back.

Things went sour from there, and it was then that Emily grew impatient with the boy. She could tell what his intentions were; he wasn't exactly being discreet. Having snapped at him more than once, she lost her patience quickly. Lorelai laughed at the new memory, the boy's scared face now forever embedded in her mind.

"This looks like it's in the middle of nowhere!" Richard exclaimed in outrage, clutching the address to the store in one hand and a map in the other. "Emily, _really_—"

"We're not having this discussion, Richard," Emily replied curtly, "it won't take long."

It was decided.

Lorelai leaned her head against the window as they pulled out of the parking lot, tuning her parents' voices out of her mind and watching as the trees passed by in a blur.

It wasn't long before they pulled into the town's square. Shock was painted on Emily's face. Richard was speechless. Lorelai had just awoken from a short nap. She looked around in confusion.

"Where are we?"

"What a…" Emily searched for the right word, "_rustic _little town."

"It certainly looks… Interesting," Richard agreed.

Lorelai thought it looked _wonderful_. A white gazebo sat at the heart of the square. Children were dancing in a nearby studio, a woman smoking as she directed their movements. People ambled down the street without worry. A dog barked cheerfully as he chased his family through the grass. It looked peaceful and idyllic. She smiled, the perfect foil to her parents' horrified expressions.

"Where is this 'William's Hardware?'" her father asked, his eyes studying the slip of paper given to them by the stock boy.

"It's there," Lorelai pointed over his shoulder to the establishment on the corner of the square. WILLIAM'S HARDWARE could be seen clear across town.

Richard nodded and took off. They parked as close to the store as they could, and the three Gilmores filed out of the car and into the street.

Lorelai quickly realized they stood out like sore thumbs. Her mother's fur coat and her father's business suit were not common in this small town; the jeans and sweaters proved that. She looked down at herself, and she was thankful that she had been able to coerce her mother into allowing her to dress down for once. She wasn't wearing jeans—_heaven forbid_—but she did look relaxed and comfortable.

She surprised herself with such thoughts. It had only been a minute and she was already envisioning herself as a citizen of this little town. She would make no complaints, however, because she loved everything she had seen so far.

She trembled as a cold breeze attacked her. Her parents had already taken shelter inside the store, and she followed them quickly.

The bell jingled above the door to signal her entrance, and a rush of warm air hit her in greeting. She sighed with contentment, wandering away from her parents to examine the merchandise on her own. It was quite a selection; despite the store's small size, they seemed to have everything in stock. She cast a sidelong glance at her mother and was pleasantly surprised to see a similar expression on her mother's face. Emily didn't normally like small towns thirty minutes from home, and she normally didn't like small towns in general. She seemed to approve of the establishment, though, for she approached the counter and politely waited for assistance.

The politeness didn't last long as she slapped the palm of her hand on the counter. "Is anyone here or will I be stealing the items I require?"

Lorelai stifled a laugh, her head bowed as she tried to hide her grin.

"Just a minute, please!" A voice called from a room to the right, and Emily sighed. She tossed her hands in the air in defeat, though her eyes rolled with impatience.

Then, a young man came out from what appeared to be a storage room. He juggled several items in his arms and dumped them all onto the counter in front of Emily.

Lorelai recognized the young man immediately, and she gave a small gasp as she ducked behind one of the aisles.

Her parents didn't notice this uncharacteristic act, and she poked her head out from the top of the aisle with refined stealth.

The young man talked amiably to her parents, offering a small grin here and there as they attempted to make conversation. However, his usually ill-tempered nature and her parents' impatience made for an ill-suited match, and she knew her intervention would be inevitable if she wanted him to stay alive. So far, he was working on something behind the counter, and her parents were staring at him disapprovingly.

Quietly, she joined her family at the counter.

_All right, let's liven up this place, Gilmore_.

"Hey there," she greeted cheerfully. "Can you help us?"

He spun around in surprise; her voice was obviously familiar to him. This made her smile. She was memorable. He had been memorabl-ing her.

"L—Lorelai?" he stammered.

"The one and only," she answered brightly. "Well… if you don't count my grandmother."

Emily turned to her daughter. "Do you know this boy?"

"This is Luke, Mom. Remember? He was at the animal shelter."

"You took her to the _animal shelter_?" Richard asked, appalled.

Emily ignored him. "Oh yes," she answered softly, "_him_."

"What can I help ya with?" Luke asked.

"We called about thirty minutes ago about a pressure washer. Apparently every other person in Hartford has it in mind to clean their house," Emily answered. Under her breath, Lorelai caught her mother add, "as if that would make them more appealing to the eye."

The remark apparently wasn't lost on Luke, who rolled his eyes. Lorelai could tell he knew these kinds of people—people like her parents—and that he didn't like them. His somewhat-friendly nature had turned almost cold at the drop of a hat, and he turned behind a curtain without a word.

A man, bearing remarkable resemblance to Luke, followed him when he returned. The older man was hauling the pressure washer, and Lorelai studied both of them carefully.

Luke was much like his father in many ways. His father was only just taller than him by a couple inches. His hair was short and deep brown. He was, in effect, the older version of Luke. Lorelai gaped at the resemblance.

"I believe these are yours," Luke's father, the proprietor William, offered kindly.

"Yes, they are," Emily agreed with a nod.

"Is that it for today?" William asked.

"Yes."

He led the couple to the cash register. Wanting to spend time looking around, Lorelai told them she would wait outside. Her father nodded to her in agreement and understanding, and she left the store without a single word.

She walked out into the street with her arms tight against her chest as she braced herself against the chill of mid-afternoon.

She wandered into the street and walked a few paces down the pavement. The sign across the street caught her eye. A _bakery_. She glanced both ways and hurried over the asphalt towards the bakery. She hadn't even opened the door yet, but she could smell the cakes that were taunting her mercilessly. She pulled open the door and stepped in like she had done so a million times, carrying herself with poise to a middle-aged woman leaning against the back wall. She looked to be in her sixties, and the name on her embroidered apron read "Fran."

Lorelai decided that this woman was very important to the town's health after one sip of the woman's coffee. It was magical and uplifting, and she could tell that the woman was much beloved. After a nice chat with the woman, Lorelai turned to head out. Her parents were standing across the street with annoyed glares in her direction. Though they were inside the hardware store, she could tell they were ready to leave. Richard looked bored and Emily looked absolutely infuriated.

_Yep, sounds about right_, she thought. She thanked Fran sincerely and exited the bakery with a new idea of what Heaven looked like. She didn't look as she crossed the street, and if it weren't for Luke's quick thinking, her innards would have nicely decorated the street.

She gave a gasp of surprise as he yanked her aside, drawing her tightly against him as the car swerved past. Her parents thundered out of the store with reprimanding voices.

"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore, what were you _thinking_?" her mother demanded.

"That's the thing, mother," Lorelai remarked dryly, "I _wasn't_."

"You can say that again," Richard agreed ill-temperedly. He stared at Lorelai and then at Luke's arm, which had lingered around Lorelai's waist too long for his liking.

Awkwardly, Lorelai pulled herself from Luke's embrace.

"Thanks for that," she said with a shaky voice as she calmed her racing heart.

"It was nothing," Luke shrugged.

She didn't quite believe him, but she nodded. Silently, she followed her parents back to the car, watching out of the corner of her eye as they pulled away.

She watched him as they left; watched as his figure got smaller and smaller as more distance was forced between them; watched as he simply stood on the sidewalk outside of his father's store, watching as she left. She watched until she could watch no longer, and it was then that she turned in her seat and stared at the back of her father's headrest. The slip of paper with the hardware store's address had fallen between the front seats. She reached for it and slipped it into her pocket.

The following morning, Lorelai hurried down the long staircase, her backpack thrown over one shoulder and her overflow of books in her hands. An envelope was perched on top of the books. It hadn't been addressed or stamped yet, but that would soon change. She dropped her backpack onto the floor by the stairs and set her books beside it. She took the letter with her to the dining room where her parents were already eating breakfast. She slid into her seat—on the left of her mother and the right of her father—and tucked the envelope beside her. She had to be careful about the way she brought up the subject, but her mother's quick eyes ruined her plan.

"What is the envelope for?"

"Oh," Lorelai started, "I was going to send a letter to William's Hardware. I don't know their personal address… so I was just going to send them a letter to thank Luke for saving me."

"Well, that's a very charming idea," Emily answered.

She didn't seem at all enthused, but it wasn't Lorelai's concern. She drummed her fingers on the table. "Yeah. I thought so. I was going to send it on the way to school, but I need a postage stamp."

"Loretta will get one for you," Emily nodded. Her eyes met the maid's. Lorelai smiled politely, but the maid had already bowed her head submissively and scurried away. She turned back to her breakfast and, once finished, put the finishing touches on the envelope. The address had been written the night before, and she neatly scrawled her name and address at the top. When Loretta returned with the roll of postage stamps, she took one gratefully, smiled her thanks, and applied it to the envelope. Then, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, she grabbed her things and left for school.

* * *

><p>Luke hated school.<p>

School was his seven-hour prison, and he hated every second of it.

He hated the students. He hated his teachers. He hated learning. He hated it in general.

The only reason he dragged himself out of bed every morning and went to school was for his sister's own education. She looked up to him and admired him like no one else, and if he didn't go to school, she sure as hell wouldn't. Though education was not his priority, he did care for the education of his sister. He would do nothing to jeopardize that, and he put himself through eight hours of endless droning for Liz. He would, of course, never let her know this.

By 2:30, school had let out and he and his sister began their routine walk home to 12 Cherry Lane. It was three blocks from school, but its proximity to the hardware store made it ideal for his father.

By three, the Danes children arrived at home. Liz skipped into their front yard with a merry laugh and Luke, far more docile than his sister, followed calmly behind her.

"Have fun at school?" his mother asked as he entered.

"As much fun as a person _can _have," Luke answered.

His mother laughed.

After Luke finished his homework, he aided his mother in preparing dinner for the family. His father came home at precisely seven, and he joined his family in the kitchen.

"A letter came for you today, Luke," William informed his son, holding it out to him. "It was addressed to the store, so it was sent there."

Liz leaped for it before Luke could get to it, and she laughed as she ran around the kitchen table trying to read the front before Luke could reach her.

"Give it back, Liz!" he roared furiously. He didn't know who would be writing to him, but he did know that his sister didn't have a right to read it. They played a game of cat and mouse; he moved one way and she prepared to run in the opposite direction. She stole quick glances at the front of the envelope when he got distracted by his parents' attempts to quiet the two of them, but, overall, she was getting nowhere _fast_. "Liz, so help me..." he threatened.

"Elizabeth," his mother scolded harshly. This caught her attention—her full name was rarely used—and she paused. "Give it back to Luke."

Reluctantly, she held out the letter to her brother. He took it with a disgruntled sigh, ripping it from her hands and staring down at it in disbelief.

A letter.

A letter from Lorelai Gilmore.

* * *

><p>Ohoho! What's it say, what's it say? WHAT'S IT SAY, LUKE!<p>

(It's clear that, in this situation, I would definitely be Liz trying to read it before he does.)

Review, please!

I can't promise quick updates because there's a little planning I still need to do, but we'll see how far I can get without making you wait months for an update.

- Puppet


	3. A Letter from Hartford

I have two things to apologize for.

**One. **For making you wait so long for an update. You know how terrible I am at updating consistently. I can't keep up a solid schedule. When summer rolls around, I'll probably get better at it. Until now, this is what you get.

**Two**. For the length of this chapter. It's pretty short. I know this. But I also know that I don't want two letters in one chapter unless absolutely necessary. I'll make up for it soon. Somehow.

If you're still reading this story, you deserve a plate of cookies. If I could make some for you, I would.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Gilmore Girls, I'd probably be better at this time management thing.

* * *

><p>"Open it, big brother!"<p>

"No."

"_Pleaaaseee_."

"No."

"I'll give you a dollar?"

"No," he answered firmly.

"Okay, fine," she sighed, "Fifty cents."

Luke stared at her blankly. "You're terrible at bargaining."

"Just open it, Luke!" she screeched excitedly.

Luke exhaled deeply, shooting pleading eyes towards his parents.

"Liz, eat your dinner and leave your brother alone," William chastised with a soft chuckle.

Liz sighed and grumbled under her breath, but she said no more as she finished her meal.

Luke poked at his food, but he wasn't hungry. He couldn't get his mind off the letter. But when his mother refused to let him leave the table until he had completed his meal, Luke scarfed down his food and excused himself with as much nonchalance as he could possibly muster.

Up the stairs he went, his feet pounding heavily against the aging wood. He walked into his room and shut the door gently before making his way to his small desk. Papers were scattered across it, but he shoved them aside and sat down, placing the letter in the now-clear space on his desk.

He took a moment to calm his nerves, but it didn't seem to do him any good. His mind was reeling with curiosity.

The envelope itself was a wonder. Handwritten in Lorelai's script, he saw his own name stare back at him.

_Lorelai Gilmore_

_572 Sycamore Lane_

_Hartford, CT 06103_

_Luke Danes_

_7 Main Street_

_Stars Hollow, CT 06067_

Sure enough, the letter was for him. He could scarcely believe it. A personalized stamp sealed the envelope and he was almost afraid to break it. It was too beautiful. A large "G" sat at the middle of the circle with "Lorelai" in an arc above it and "Victoria" in an upwards arc below it. He grit his teeth and tore it open. Pulling several sheets of paper out of the envelope, he set it aside and read.

_Luke,_

_ Hey! It's Lorelai… Gilmore. Lorelai Gilmore. Wow, that was a real 007 moment there… Anyway… I hope this reaches you. I didn't know your address, so I sent it to your dad's store. I wanted to thank you again for saving me. You're some Prince Charming. I mean, who needs a guy who can dance with you until midnight when you meet someone who can rescue you from an oncoming car? Those Disney princesses are missing out, I tell you._

_ Your town is lovely, and even though I was there for less than an hour, I kind of miss it. I liked the small-town charm and the friendliness of everyone. I especially miss Fran's coffee. It's such a coincidence that I meet you and then a few days later I meet you again. What are the odds that your father's store is the only store near Hartford with a pressure washer? Must be fate, huh?_

_ Anyway, thanks. And thank your dad for me; he did pretty well up against the Gilmores. He faired better than most. My parents can be pretty intimidating if you don't know them—no… they can be intimidating all the time. Anyway, kudos to your dad._

_I guess that's all I wanted to say. Thanks again. Maybe I'll see you around some other time._

_Your friend,_

_Lorelai_

Luke let the words sink in. He leaned against the back of his chair with his arms folded in thought. Was she expecting a reply? Was that the right thing to do? He tucked the letter under a stack of papers—away from the prying eyes of his sister—and passed the rest of the evening in his room by lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

After school, Luke helped his dad at the hardware store.

"—and she begged me the whole way here."

"That's little sisters for you, Luke."

"I just wish she would stop… it's none of her business…" Luke muttered.

"Maybe not, but you know how she can be. She looks up to you, Luke. Try to be understanding."

"I guess."

"So what'd Anna say?"

"Anna?" Luke echoed, confused.

"Luke… you didn't tell her?" William looked up in surprise.

"I… didn't think it was important," he answered. "I mean, it's just a letter. It doesn't really mean anything."

"Her family does not strike me as the family to just _write letters_ to people. What'd it say, anyway?" Luke didn't answer. "Come on, Luke! It's me! I'm not gonna tell anyone. Not even your mother. It'll be between you and me."

Luke was cautious. "Promise?"

"Promise."

He sighed. "Okay, fine…"

* * *

><p>"Lorelai, wait!"<p>

"Keep up," she countered, tossing the words over her shoulder with a laugh.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I don't wanna be late."

"_You _don't want to miss class?" he asked incredulously, "Ha!"

"I actually like this class, Chris. I'll see you later," she sighed as she turned around to face her pursuer. Christopher Hayden, the son of her parents' best friends. She was almost obligated to be his friend, despite how annoying he sometimes was. His parents attended every gathering at the Gilmore mansion, and where they went, he went. Lorelai could tell her parents liked him, and she had long ago vowed to hate whatever—or whoever—they liked.

But somehow, Christopher was different. He was sweet and charming and polite, not too much of a Westley.

"Promise?" he asked with a smile.

"I promise," she rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she did so. He smiled back, and she shook her head when she turned away again.

Lorelai sat in class vacantly, her eyes drifting towards the window with each monotonous drone of her professor. Okay, so maybe economics wasn't her favorite class. She may have lied there. But ever since she had met Luke Danes, she hadn't been the same around Christopher—around anyone. When her friends went to the mall, she wondered if Stars Hollow even _had _a mall. Her mother would be astonished to know she had been envisioning life in the idyllic town, but she didn't care. Stars Hollow seemed like her true home. It seemed like it was calling to her. Who was she to resist?

Christopher was on her heels the moment school was over. As much as he sometimes bothered her with his punctuality, he was a good friend. They walked side by side, hand in hand, step for step. He offered to carry her books; she rolled her eyes and refused.

Lorelai walked home from school; the new maid Ginger was too slow picking her up from school. In fact, she was too slow at everything. Lorelai resented the woman, and she let her know it. Often times, she would 'forget' to tell Ginger when she was walking home and when she wasn't, so Ginger would show up to an empty school half an hour after school ended, by which time Lorelai was already halfway home. It was a game.

"Are you going to the function?"

"Me?" Lorelai asked incredulously, "at the function?"

Christopher stared at her.

"Of course I am," she sighed, "but only because my parents are making me."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a comforting hug. She sank into his grasp, a small smile on her face. As they came upon Lorelai's house, she pulled away waved as she marched across the driveway. She looked back as she opened the door; Christopher was still there. She smiled softly and closed the door.

* * *

><p>"Luke, when was the last time you spoke to Anna?" Luke's mother, Kathleen, asked.<p>

"Um, I dunno. Last week, I guess…" he answered.

"Why don't you see if she'd like to go on a trip with us? We were thinking of going to Harvey's Beach in a few weeks."

"Oh, uh… I don't think Anna's really the beach type…"

"Well have you asked her?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Luke, even if she wouldn't want to go, she'd appreciate being asked."

"Mom…"

"Luke," William warned, "there's no harm in asking."

Luke glowered at his father, but he nodded consent. "Fine."

After dinner, he went to Anna's house.

Lorelai's letter constantly plagued his mind. He had already written a response and dropped it in the mailbox, but he knew not to expect an answer for another two or three days, if she ever wrote one at all. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about her, not when he had Anna to consider, but… she was just a friend. Just a friend.

Anna was thrilled to be invited and even more thrilled to go.

He wanted to tell her about the letter-just in passing, as a sort of "hey isn't this neat" little anecdote-but he had changed his mind at the last minute. He wasn't afraid of telling her-it was nothing for her to worry about, after all-but... there was something about this exchange. It was personal. It was his. Just his. His family knew about it, but his father knew the most. He wanted to keep it that way. Whatever this was... was special. He wanted to be careful not to ruin what he had, in terms of Lorelai _and _of Anna.

* * *

><p>Like I said, short short <em>short<em>.

I lost the direction I was going with this, so I'll have to get into it again before I really pick up with it.

It's important to note that Anna will probably be around a little more, as will Christopher. Rory's character will still exist. The way everything is handled, however, might play out a little differently. We'll see. C:

- Puppet


	4. A Letter from Stars Hollow

Happy June 3rd, everyone! AKA, the day Lorelai and Luke were supposed to be married but never were. /sobs eternally.

As a special treat, I managed to get this finished in time. c: Woo!

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Gilmore Girls... June 3rd. That's all.

* * *

><p>The new maid, Gerta, was even more unreliable than Ginger. It was a wonder that Ginger had even lasted a week, but the fact that Gerta was still employed after two weeks made Lorelai question her mother's sanity. Perhaps her mother and father had come to a disagreement again about maids; her mother had always been hasty to fire them. Or perhaps Gerta was just lazy and uncaring around Lorelai, but she became refined around Emily. Whatever the reason for her lack of skill, Lorelai was thankful. Gerta had a certain phobia for leaving the Gilmore house, and therefore she didn't quite like the idea of retrieving the mail from the mailbox. It was their agreement, then, that Lorelai would bring in the mail on her way home from school and give it to Gerta, thus ensuring that the pitiful maid kept her job—or at least, it ensured that Emily would not use this as a reason to fire her.<p>

Lorelai didn't mind getting the mail for Gerta. This was, after all, the only way to retrieve letters without Emily knowing. And she was awaiting a special letter—one that, if her mother know she was getting, would surely meet its demise in the fireplace. She had to keep this a secret, and the only way to do that was the fetch the mail herself… and become allies with the maids.

Lorelai smiled as she flipped through the mail, but her smile grew a thousand times brighter as her eyes fell on her own name, with the return address marked "Luke Danes." She hurried inside and handed the maid the rest of the mail. Then, she dropped her book bags by the stairs and hurried up to her room. She shut the door behind her and locked it for safeguard, not wanting Emily to burst in and find her reading—or replying—to a letter from someone she deemed unrefined.

Before she opened the envelope, she found a box in her closet. She took out the pair of shoes she had only ever worn once in the five years she had owned them and shoved them into the back of her closet.

The bed sank under her weight as she climbed onto her bed, propping a pillow behind her back for support. She opened the envelope carefully and set it in the shoebox, which was to become her box of letter-related objects. She then unfolded the letter and took a moment to marvel at Luke's handwriting.

It was different than she imagined, but not a bad different. It was more… scratchy. But at the same time, it was also… neat. He used varying capital and lowercase letters which sometimes annoyed her, but the variation looked good in his script. Her eyes realigned themselves at the top of the paper and she began to read.

_Lorelai,_

_I got your letter. I'm not sure why princesses want to dance until midnight—you know, with the whole beauty sleep thing. Oh, whoa. Sleeping Beauty… beauty sleep… Anyway. _

_You love Stars Hollow now, but you haven't even seen it. You just saw the business side. You saw my dad's store and Fran's bakery and that's basically it. You have yet to see Taylor Doose, who is only twelve years older than me but parades around town trying to fix everything. And then there's Mrs. Gleason and her twelve kids—and she says she wants more! Soon that family will be large enough to form their own hamlet or take over the town. Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet. You'll be eating your words. But Fran's coffee is good. She's been teaching me a little about the coffee-making business, though I can't say it's my favorite. Burgers is more of my thing._

_I hope you're doing well. My parents are planning a trip to the beach this summer. Ever been to Harvey's Beach? I've heard it's pretty. Not very commercialized, but pretty. I guess any beach is pretty, though, right? Dad wants __to spend as much time as possible with__…_

Lorelai narrowed her eyes, trying to read what he had crossed out. He had been writing a very personal piece of information, and she suddenly worried that someone in his family was ill. He clearly hadn't meant to, and it surprised her that he had been so emotionally invested in the letter he was writing—so invested that he hadn't realized just how personal he was getting. She tried to forget it—it was really none of her business—and kept reading, marveling at how much he rambled.

… _to do something "fun" this summer, and this is about as fun as it gets. Liz will enjoy it the most, I think._

_It was nice to hear from you. Living in Stars Hollow can get a little overwhelming, and it's nice to take some time to read a letter and respond to it. I've heard e-mail is getting pretty big, but no one here is really advanced enough for that. We're a very small town, but it's still nice to get handwritten letters. Kind of keeps you grounded._

_Luke_

She read over the letter several times before pulling a notebook from the bedside table. Pen in hand, she began to draft her response. The letter took up permanent residence in the shoebox, which she shoved under her bed away from her mother's prying eyes.

Once she was finished, she sealed the letter and addressed the envelope to his home address. She went downstairs and snuck out of the house, stuffing the letter into the mail slot. No one would check the mail until tomorrow after the mail came, and no one would ever know she sent it.

She walked back inside to find that her father had come home and was sitting in the living room with her mother. Both were quietly reading their selected pieces of literature. For Richard, a newspaper. For Emily, _Pride and Prejudice_._  
><em>

Lorelai grabbed her backpack from the foot of the stairs, cringing when the papers inside shuffled, enough to make noise that would distract her parents. But neither looked up, and Lorelai sighed in relief as she began to slip up the stairs.

"Not so fast," Richard called, not once looking up from the newspaper.

Lorelai sighed and turned on her heel. She dropped her backpack on the stairs and walked down the staircase, footsteps heavy as she went. "Hi, Dad."

"What were you doing out there?" he asked.

"Bird watching," she replied, "it's a good season for finches."

"Mhm," he responded, clearly unconvinced.

"Dinner will be ready shortly," Emily looked up from her book. "You can remain down here until then."

Lorelai frowned. "It's only five. I still have homework."

"It's six-thirty," Emily corrected with a glance at the clock on the mantle, "if you have homework, you can do it here."

"Now wait a moment," Richard looked up from the newspaper, "what have you been doing all this time?"

"Uh... other homework," she lied.

Sighing in resignation, she slumped into the empty chair in the living room and stared blankly at her parents as they returned to their readings. She liked reading, but the pieces her parents read bored her to tears. _Pride and Prejudice_? She wasn't even sure she understood half of it when she read it for school. And the newspaper? Just the thought of reading it bored her. She sighed heavily, crossing her arms as she was forced to sit and wait for seven o'clock.

* * *

><p>Anna was really the only good thing about Luke's days. Stars Hollow High was torture, and he didn't really get along with most people at school. Anna had convinced him to run track, and though he excelled at it—and earned the nickname Butch—he was never one for attention. His only real friend at school was Bootsie, but he didn't even know if he could consider him a friend; they didn't exactly talk much. They mostly just shared the silence.<p>

But Anna could make him talk. She understood him better than anyone—except, perhaps, his family. She made him laugh and she made him listen. She made him focus in school and keep his grades.

Luke smiled as he approached her, swinging his arm around her and pulling her in as he kissed her forehead.

"Hey, you," she laughed. "Why are you so cheerful?"

"No reason," he responded with a shrug, "just am."

"I won't argue with that," she nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist as they walked down the street. "Learn anything new today?"

"I learned that Johnny Creswell continues to change my beliefs every day. Just when I think that kid can't get any less stupid…"

"Luke," Anna admonished with a smile, "just because he thought rabbits lay eggs—"

"Oh, no," Luke shook his head, "today, he asked if the Titanic is underwater."

Anna was silent for a few moments before she responded. "I see. Well, not everyone is smart, Luke. And you shouldn't laugh at those who aren't."

"I wasn't laughing at him," Luke argued, though he admitted his lie when she glared at him. "Okay, maybe a little."

She rolled her eyes and reached up to kiss him, her hand gently moving across his face to cup his jaw.

They were interrupted abruptly with the voice of a child.

"Luke, can you—"

"No." Luke pulled away from Anna with a growl of annoyance, knowing full well who the voice belonged to. Anna nudged him in the ribs, a subtle warning to be polite.

"But you didn't even let me—"

"You were going to ask me if I could help you make something or give you advice or take you somewhere or do something with you or basically do anything that I don't actually want to do."

"You're good," the boy, age ten, remarked sincerely.

"I've had practice," Luke deadpanned.

"Kirk," Anna said sweetly, "what do you want?"

"I was going to ask Luke if he'd be willing to run for a charity the town's having to repair the old bridge."

"That bridge has been repaired twice already," he argued.

"And now it's broken again," Kirk answered, "I'm only a messenger, Luke. If you don't want to, you just need to take it up with Paul."

Paul, Taylor Doose's father, was even worse than Taylor Doose. If there was anyone Luke _didn't _want to talk to, it was the Doose family. And also Kirk.

"Take it up with him for me, will ya?" he asked, but he didn't wait for a reply. Instead, he took Anna's hand and continued past Kirk, around the corner, and down the street.

"But… you're supposed to do it!" Kirk called after them, but he received no response. Confused, he walked away.

"So, when is this beach trip?" Anna asked as they continued their walk through town. It was Saturday, but Luke and Anna often took walks through Stars Hollow's historic streets when they were together. It put both of them at ease, and Luke found it easier to talk when he was out in the open.

"Dad thinks it'll happen a week or two after the end of school," he answered, "it all depends on…"

He trailed off, but Anna knew what he was going to say. "How is she?"

"Better, I guess. She's not as tired lately, which is always good. I think she's trying to be strong, mostly for Liz. There hasn't been much improvement, but…"

Anna clung to his arm sympathetically, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want to go home and spend some time wi—"

"No."

His answer was so firm he was almost afraid he had been too harsh. He apologized quickly, and Anna simply nodded. She understood.

This was why he loved her. Why he needed her. With his mom slipping from him, he wanted to be with her, but… it hurt. So he spent a lot of time with Anna walking through town and keeping his mind off his mother's deteriorating health. Cancerous tumors littered her body, making her weaker and weaker as time went by. The doctors hadn't been able to give them a definite time frame, but they had warned them to get final affairs in order as quick as possible. Luke figured he only had months left. But as much as he wanted to spent time with his Kathleen and be with her… he couldn't. So he distanced himself and tried to forget it was real.

Anna was helpful in that area. She had promised him she would always be there when he needed to talk or needed company, and she had yet to let him down. They were going on two years now, and their love for each other hadn't wavered in the slightest. They supported each other, helped each other. Depended on each other.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she answered quietly as she gripped his hand. "I'm always here for you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," he nodded. "I think you're right, though... I should go home."

She nodded, "all right. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

He thought for a moment, "Yeah, tomorrow."

"Okay."

He walked her home and then walked home himself, picking a rose from a citizen's rosebush as he went.

A present for his mother.

Lorelai Gilmore didn't seem too pleased with her parents, but she didn't know how lucky she was to _have _parents. It pained him to know that a life without his mother was only months away. His mother was his guidepost, his rock. She was always strong and fearless, and to see her so weak and fragile made him want to crumble. He'd do anything to take her place. But he knew that he couldn't, and that his mother wouldn't want him to. She was, after all, Kathleen Danes; the woman afraid of nothing; the woman who endured everything for her children.

He inhaled deeply and let the scent of the rose fill his nostrils. His mother was going to love it.

It was, after all, her favorite flower.

* * *

><p>That's all for now! I'll see if I can work on more soon! Writing this made me fall in love with this idea again. I really need to finish it. c:<p>

I'm trying to keep this story at one letter per chapter. We'll see how long that holds up. xD

- Hannah


End file.
